


Pint Pot Judas.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [4]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Political Alliances, Some Humor, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm asks Jamie to do a job......he fails, and the cause of the resulting five year rift between them........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pint Pot Judas.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a great prompt from Petersgal and I had absolutely no thoughts as to what to do with it!!  
> However, I was keen to go back in time again, before Malcolm and Sam were an item, and explore the reason for the five year rift between Jamie and Malcolm. 
> 
> "prompt...jamie rings malcolm telling him he has bad news....!!!!"
> 
> So this is what I've come up with.......  
> Some of the dialogue, around the 'Pint Pot Judas', is an exchange taken directly from The a Thick of It.  
> (Although not in this context). It follows on from my story 'Pulling An All Nighter', which Malcolm doesn't quite know how to deal with.........

PINT POT JUDAS. 

Sam frowned as she entered the war zone that was Malcolm's Number 10 office.  
Desk littered with files, papers, empty cups and other detritus, he, seated amongst it all, with the air of a precarious Humpty Dumpty.  
"Coffee please Sam, if you're going that way." He spoke without looking up.  
Only raising his eyes as she walked towards him.....the hot cup already in her hand.  
He smiled slightly.  
"Been at the Crystal Ball again I see! Preempting my every thought....it's fucking spooky, that's what it is."  
"It's one o clock Malcolm, you always have a coffee at one o clock, it's hardly rocket science!"  
A week had passed since their infamous all nighter.  
The evening had culminated with her asleep practically in his lap, and then kissing his cheek as he dropped her off in the car at four in the morning.  
Neither one mentioned the incident.  
Malcolm had skirted around the whole thing, nervously watching her for any tell tale signs, quite what signs she was meant to display he wasn't sure, but he watched for them, hawk like anyway.  
Since it was impossible to avoid his PA.....not that he wanted to.....he decided that silence and pretending it hadn't happened was the way to go.  
If Sam was a little more attentive towards him, looked at him searchingly from time to time, then so be it.  
There was nothing he could, or would do about it.  
Nothing.  
Except that whenever he put on his overcoat to go home each evening, and caught the scent of her lingering in its woollen fabric, Malcolm, the fucker, Tucker was immediately transported back, to that blissful moment of waking, realising he was holding her close to him, memorising the feel of her, the smell of her hair, the touch of her hand against his shirt, and he dragged his sorry arse upstairs to his bedroom for a very unsatisfying wank. 

Must get that fucking coat dry cleaned. 

"Anything to eat, Malcolm? I'm going to grab a quick sandwich."  
"Not unless it's one of those nice panini's like you bought in the other day.....?"  
"Well, I haven't got that, but I can get you one if you'd like?"  
"Nah, nae bother! I'm no hungry!"  
Sam disappeared.  
Once back at her desk, she ordered a panini from a cafe not far from the offices, then rang down to the gate to tell them to expect it.  
She would go and collect it when it was delivered.  
Just then her desk phone rang.  
"Sam. It's me, Jamie.....is Caesar there?"  
"Yeah."  
"Alone? Not busy?"  
"Both. Shall I put you through?"  
"Please.....and Sam?"  
"What is it Jamie?"  
"Prepare for a volcanic eruption roughly on the scale of Vesuvius......although I may possibly be under-exaggerating!"  
Sam groaned audibly and patched the call through.  
"Tucker!"  
"Malcolm? Jamie for you. And a panini is on its way."  
"Fuck! What does he want? Okay Sam, thanks."  
"Malcolm?.....I've got fucking bad news mate.....brace yourself.....Tom's in the shit......some guy he went to Oxford with has sent a Polaroid of him to one of the Red Tops, at a Rag party, in 1979, doing a line of coke."  
"WHAT! What the fuck! WHY?"  
"Because he's now the head of some sodding big multinational and Tom's been on his case about unpaid corporate taxes. So it's his revenge."  
"FOR FUCKS SAKE! I've got the Unions to deal with as well, this afternoon, I'm meant to be meeting the Trade and Industry Secretary and the Train Drivers Union, to try and stop a fucking Tube strike!! Cunts! Fucking Oxbridge cunts!"  
"He's sent it to Hewitt.....at the Mirror."  
"OH THIS JUST GETS BETTER AND BETTER!! Right....you get your fucking arse over here Jamie, you're going to have to deal with this. I can't put off the meeting and I can't be in two places at once. If we can't make Hewitt sit on the story, we're going to have to smother it."  
"How the fuck will we do that?"  
"We'll release the unemployment figures early, they are down, it's good news......it's all we've fucking got. It'll have to do."  
"Okay, Malc, I'm on my way." 

 

The string of expletives and the volume in which they were delivered, told Sam all she needed to know.  
Shit was going down.  
Before she could reach the office door it barrelled open and he came thundering out, vein in his temple throbbing, face puce, with rage.  
"FUCKING FUCKING FUCK!" Spittle flew from his mouth as he rounded her desk, and came to a standstill beside her.  
She looked up at him, waiting for the tirade to finish, the fall out to reach her, then the explanation of what had happened.  
She grimaced at the news.  
"Right, Sam, you'd better get me Hewitt on the phone, then go through to Tom on his private number, I need to see the stupid ball sack, before he does any more damage and completely fucks himself up the arse. Jamie's on his way over, he'll have to deal with it after that. I'm away to the Train Drivers Union meeting....you'd better get your waterproof keks on and come with me."  
With a slight smile, Sam reached for her phone directory.  
She flipped through, then dialled.  
"Mr Hewitt! Mr Tucker for you."  
She held the receiver aloft.  
"Malcolm? How's it hanging?"  
"Like the fucking Gardens of Babylon! You?"  
"Oh I'm peachy Malcolm. Just peachy."  
Malcolm paced up and down the carpet as he smiled his toothy false smile, all the while making obscene hand gestures as the conversation progressed.  
First he mimed wanking, then a fist up to his forehead, in an approximation of a dick.  
Although he was simpering to Hewitt, then mildly threatening, his steely eyes danced and sparkled with thinly veiled glee, as he spoke.  
Some part of him enjoyed all this political sumo. This posturing, this display of tail feathers.  
Sam did her best not to laugh.  
Handing her back the handset as he rang off, he went for his overcoat with a grin.  
"RIGHT.....once more into the breach.....fuck me, all this adrenaline is enough to give a man a massive erection!"  
Now......Sam tried her very hardest.....really she did........not to glance at his crotch when he said this, but sadly she failed miserably.  
She was almost disappointed to see his trousers looking perfectly normal.....no tenting there.  
When she realised what she'd done, she blushed scarlet.  
Malcolm was shucking his shoulders into his coat, distracted, had he noticed her reaction to his flippant comment?  
She very much hoped he hadn't. 

Jamie arrived just as they were heading out.  
The two scots exchanged a few words, and his Senior Press Officer, and unofficial second in command, was left with strict instructions to quash the story and replace it with the unemployment figures. 

Malcolm swept into the office of the Trade and Industry Secretary with the air of the Caped Crusader.  
Jacket flying out behind, blackberry in one hand, mobile to his ear, and a sheaf of papers under his arm.  
Sam trailed in his slipstream, not feeling much like Robin.......more like Penfold from Dangermouse!!  
He and the Minister shook hands perfunctorily and took their seats.  
Sam at Malcolm's side, to take notes, pass him the relevant papers at just the right moment so that he didn't lose his momentum when he spoke.  
She knew exactly what to do and when and where to punctuate his flow, by reaching across and placing the page at his fingertips.  
Hours and hours passed. Fruitless circular discussions.  
Finally at nine in the evening, after nearly six hours of negotiations, an agreement was reached.  
The strike would be called off, pending a pay review and an investigation into working time regulations.  
Relieved and satisfied, the meeting broke up.

On reaching the pavement Malcolm was immediately checking his mobile.  
No messages......he'd expected Jamie to contact him, to tell him all was well.  
He dialled his friend's number hastily.  
Jamie, however, did not reply.  
Angrily he left a voice message then punched a text, before hanging up and turning to Sam.  
"Dinner! You. Me." He barked.  
"Um......okay, I guess." His PA looked unsure.  
"What?" Malcolm's face still wore the aggressive 'don't mess with me' look.  
But seeing the doubt on her face, he softened, the ferocity faded.......  
"What? You can't stand my company a moment longer.....?"  
"No, Malcolm, it's not that.....I......"  
"Oh, shit.....sorry. Did you have a date? Fuck! I didn't think. Just because I haven't got a fucking life outside of this shit job, I tend to think no one else has either. Sorry Sam.....fuck! I'm such a cunt, and I've kept you late.....again!"  
"I don't have a date, Malcolm.....it's just that, well, after the other night, I didn't think......."  
Malcolm huffed.  
"Sam, it happened, it's no big deal, it was a stupid mistake. Don't dwell on it okay."  
Her face puckered, she took a step back, regarding him with an injured expression.  
She swallowed hard, clearly flustered.  
Malcolm's brow furrowed. He looked confused.  
"Now what have I said, for Christ's sake? What's that look for?"  
Sam attempted to rally, changing the hurt to nonchalance, but she was not that good an actress.  
"A mistake?" She murmured. "Yes, of course. That's what it was."  
Turning quickly away, she hoped he wouldn't notice that her wet eyes betrayed her.  
Just then, his mobile sprang into life.  
"FUCK!"  
"Saved by the bell." Sam whispered under her breath.  
It was the Prime Minister.  
"Malcolm? Where the bloody hell are you?"  
"Outside the Department of Trade, where do you think......? Inside a whore's drawers ?" He spat....  
"The meetings only just finished..... Went quite well actually, not that you've even fucking asked!"  
"Get back to Number 10, Malcolm, I'm up the swanny without a bloody paddle, and it's all the fault of your protégé!"  
"Jamie? Why, what's he done?"  
"Nothing Malcolm, that's what he's done. A picture of me snorting coke is on the front page of the Mirror."  
"WHAT THE FUCK!.......I'm on my way!" 

Hanging up, Malcolm turned back to Sam, who had, by now, collected herself.  
"Look love......whatever this is.....it's going to have to wait, yeah? I haven't got the time or the fucking energy, right now, okay?  
So whatever it is I've cocked up, or said that I shouldn't have said, or haven't said what I ought to have said, or whatever the bloody hell I've done to fucking hurt you......I'm sorry.....okay? I'm sorry. But I have to get back to the Office. Something's gone tits up and I've heard nothing from Jamie, and I might just have a Prime Minister who has somehow managed to shaft himself so completely that we're all going to end up in Shit Street. Okay? Sam?"  
She nodded in reply, but said nothing.  
Malcolm sighed.  
"Sam, I fucking need you with me on this, yeah? I apparently have no other bastard that I can fucking trust to do their job.  
If you're pissed off with me too, I might as well just go and fucking top myself now and save the hyenas the trouble. Please?"  
"It's okay, Malcolm. I'll come back to the office with you. Forget it. Like you said, it was a mistake."  
"Oh fuck it all." He replied, exasperated. "We're not done with this....yeah? But another time......I can't do this now."  
"There's nothing more to say, Malcolm. Just forget it."  
His face was livid, more so than she'd seen him for a long time, a different kind of anger, that of frustration, and hopelessness.  
He spun away, fingers in each side of his mouth, and whistled a black cab.  
They were back at Number 10 within fifteen minutes.

He strode in like a galleon in full sail.  
Barking into his mobile as he did so.  
Jamie was in his office, head down on the desk.  
Defeated.  
"What the fuck happened?"  
"Fucking Hewitt. He's gone with the front page spread."  
"BUT I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU WHAT TO DO! Why didn't you do it?"  
Malcolm was apoplectic.  
Sam hovered in the doorway, as the two men stood facing each other.  
"You've fucking LET ME DOWN, I leave you to do a job and you fucking flunk it."  
"Malc.....Hewitt has a fucking agenda here, THE MAN' S A CUNT......and it's more to do with you than anything.....because of Grogan, he's wanted to nail your arse to the wall for ages.....this is how he's chosen to do it."  
At the mention of the word 'Grogan', Sam flinched.  
"I can't fucking trust anyone......CAN I?" Malcolm yelled." Not even you.......you're a fucking Judas."  
"WWHAT?" Jamie held his hands out in defeated vexation.  
"FUCKING. PINT. POT. JUDAS!"  
"I'm five foot ten!"  
"YEAH? Well you don't fucking fill it!" 

Sam looked from one to the other as the two men faced each other down.  
It was almost frightening to see the nuclear reaction between them.  
"Well, that's it then. I'm done with you. You fucked me over good and proper. So thanks for that."  
"Malcolm, don't be such an arsehole. Wake up and smell the daisies!"  
Malcolm turned on his friend, and for a second Sam thought he was going to strike him.  
"OUT! GET OUT! OUT OF MY SIGHT, AND DON'T FUCKING COME BACK."  
Jamie made to protest.  
"WE'RE DONE. YOU AND I. WE'RE DONE. FINISHED. ALL SHE WROTE!"  
"You're a cunt Malcolm, a stupid fucking cunt. And I wish you well......you're going to need it. Cos when they fuck you like they've fucked me, you'll be finished too, you mark my words. One day......one day, you'll know. And you'll be bloody sorry.  
Have a nice life."  
Jamie stormed out and slammed the door behind him. 

For a few seconds, Malcolm stood, his hands resting on the desk in front of him, jaw tensing and releasing, simmering.  
Then, as if something suddenly snapped, he let out a mighty roar.  
Sam leapt back, eyes wide, as he swept the entire contents of the table top onto the floor.  
Finally smashing his fist down on the leather writing square at the apron of the desk, with such a force, that had he connected with the wood instead, he would have undoubtedly broken the bones in his hand.  
Flopping into his chair, head down, he became silent.  
Unsure as to what she should do, Sam came forwards, she placed her hand lightly on his left shoulder, squeezing gently.  
He made no sign or movement at all. 

After a few seconds he sat up with a jerk.  
"RIGHT!" He cried. "Sam!.........Damage limitation. Get me the Mail, the Express and the Broadsheets. We get those unemployment figures out there in letters FUCKING TEN FEET HIGH! We tell the country what a fucking good job their PM is doing. We tell them.......yeah, so he did this in 1979.......so fucking what? Now he's a strong leader, and he's bringing us out of recession and he's a fucking hero. That's what we do."  
"Yes Malcolm." She moved away.  
"And Sam......get the BBC.....I want Tom on the Today Programme at twat o clock in the morning, telling John Humphries, what a bloody angel he is now, and how dedicated to this fucking country he is."  
"We're going to be here half the night, Malcolm.......shall I order us in something to eat as well? Only I'm so hungry, I feel faint."  
"Fuck! Sam, I'm sorry. Do whatever you think........order what you like......and you have yours, don't wait for me....I'm going down to see Tom.....I'll have something when I get back, okay?"  
"Okay. Malcolm.....I'll leave it in the pantry for you. If you don't need me when you get back, I'll go home."  
"I appreciate it Sam. I know sometimes it seems like I don't, but I do."  
He made to kiss her cheek, but she ducked away, avoiding him and hurrying back to her own desk.  
Malcolm watched her scurry away, his face desolate.  
Moments later, he rushed passed, shouting into his mobile, on his way towards the Prime Minister's office.  
With barely a glance in Sam's direction. 

Nearly five years were to pass before he saw Jamie again, at Sam's behest, after his baby son was born........  
............But that's another story.


End file.
